


Intergalactic Force Buddies

by rosestone



Series: Solo [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Force-Sensitive Han Solo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosestone/pseuds/rosestone
Summary: Han Solo is just trying to make a quick buck while avoiding the attention of the Empire.  It'd be a lot easier if Qui-Gon Jinn stopped trying to recruit him into his ridiculous effort to preserve the Jedi.





	1. Chapter 1

Han sank deep into the flow of the Force, allowing his worries to drift away.  Yes, this was dangerous, but he was in the middle of nowhere, in a ship that could move quickly if he had to flee, and he needed to make repairs.  It was necessary.  It was safe.

It was wonderful.

He reached out to the open panel next to him and began following the wires along, tracing their path with his mind.  The flow of power was blocked _here_ , which meant – ah, a broken connection.  He concentrated on the wire in question, bringing the Force to bear.  Everything had been one in the Force once, and at some level they wanted to return to that state; so if he focused that sense of oneness, focused it to the two ends of the wire and brought them just a little closer together – there.  The ship sang with rightness.

Han relaxed, leaning back from the open panel but not releasing his connection with the Force just yet.  Soon enough he’d have to bundle it away and wall himself up from the outside world again, but for now he could just enjoy the feeling.

He glanced over at the diagnostic holo leaning against the opposite wall, just in case –

Han fell backwards, slamming up his shields and fumbling for his blaster.

The man who’d been sitting beside him vanished like he’d never been there.

Han flicked his eyes around the room.  Empty.  Nothing disturbed.  Where the kriffing hells had the man come from?

Had he been there at all?  On reflection, he’d been translucent.  And entirely blue.  There were blue-skinned species, but they rarely dressed in the same colour.  And Han couldn’t come up with _any_ species that was see-through.

He needed more sleep.  Enough fiddling with the engines for tonight.  Han tucked his blaster away, shaking his head, and began sealing the ship back up.  He’d set course somewhere he could get work before he went to bed.  Maybe the Mid Rim.  He hadn’t been back there for a while, since those planets had a higher Imperial presence, but they usually had good jobs going.

Despite his determination not to waste any more time thinking about his hallucination, Han couldn’t quite get away from one thought:

The man had vanished the moment he lost his connection to the Force.

 

The problem with being a smuggler, Han reflected, was that some people had an entirely unreasonable overreaction to his presence in Imperial space.

It wasn’t like he’d been doing anything all that bad.  A little Mid Rim smuggling, that was all.  Some people just didn’t have any sense of proportion.

Still, things could be worse.  There wasn’t anything wrong with his ship that he couldn’t repair, he hadn’t been shot, and it’d only been Stormtroopers after him.  He had nightmares sometimes, even now, about being caught by the Inquisitors.

A woman cleared her throat behind him, and he turned to face her.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.  The child clinging to her hip stared up at Han, wide-eyed.

He shook his head, making himself smile.  “I’ll have to make some repairs, but that’s easy enough.  It’ll take me a while – you can use my berth, if you like.  She could probably use some rest.”  The kid didn’t _look_ tired, but she’d crash sooner or later.  Mortal terror tended to do that.

She smiled back.  It didn’t erase the lines of fear and exhaustion on her face.  “Thank you.  For everything.  I know we can’t ever repay you.”

Han shook his head.  “Now, what kind of a person would I be if I’d left you?”

She didn’t reply, but the expression on her face told Han pretty well what her experiences in that regard had been.  As she turned for the tiny berth, he shook his head again, resisting the urge to swear.  He probably couldn’t ruin Sondra Lailek’s opinion of him, not after getting them out just before the Inquisitors came calling, but she wouldn’t appreciate him teaching her kid bad habits.

He sealed the door to the engine room – better not to tempt the kid with forbidden territory – and laid out his tools, frowning at the diagnostics in front of him.  He’d definitely lost _something_ important, but he was pretty sure one of the less important things he’d lost was the computer responsible for generating a good diagnostic, because this was useless.

Well, with a Force-sensitive kid with no training on the ship, they were incredibly kriffing obvious to anyone who was looking anyway.  Doing a little Force Mechanics wouldn’t hurt.

He settled awkwardly into place, reaching for calm.  It was harder than usual – considering how close he’d been to a run-in with Inquisitors, Han thought that was pretty justified – but not impossible.  He didn’t have anything to worry about.  Things were going to be fine.  He’d get the two of them somewhere Outer Rim, somewhere the Inquisitors wouldn’t bother searching, and they could live normal lives.  Not because the Force willed it – the Force wasn’t some beneficent god – but because Han Solo was very good at not getting caught, and he was going to _make sure_ they didn’t get found.

One ship.  Two other life-forms, one normal and one shining like a luma in the Force.  A great empty expanse of space, no other Force-sensitives within Han’s considerable range, and he let out a breath in relief.

Time to get to work, then.

The worst of the damage was outside the ship.  Nothing that posed a danger, but without the Force he would’ve had to make planetfall to get it repaired, and considering how close the biggest breach was to the main fuel line it might’ve been a while until they got anywhere.  He traced wires, sealed holes, and welded connections, feeling sweat roll down his face with the effort.  None of it was especially hard work, but it was delicate and there was a lot of it.  By the time the worst of the damage was sealed, he was sagging with exhaustion.  Everything else could be left until later.

Something tickled his Force-sense.  The kid’d gotten in, maybe.  He turned his head to the side and swallowed an oath.

The same man.  Still blue and translucent.  And, now that Han took the time to study him, baffled-looking.

Han resisted the urge to pull away from the Force.  Whatever was going on, running away wasn’t going to help.  “Uh.  Who are you?”

The man’s gaze sharpened on his face.  “You can _see_ me?”

“Yes?” Han said, stretching his stiff legs out.  Better to be prepared to run, just in case.  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, you know.”

“You have a point,” the man admitted.  “I’m just not used to being recognised.  It’s been a very long time.  And, to answer your question, my name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Han blinked, long-unused memories kicked into gear.  “You’re a Jedi?”  Now that he looked, the blue-and-translucent clothing did actually look like a Jedi’s tunics.

“And so are you, if I don’t miss my guess,” Qui-Gon said.  Han frowned at him, and he raised an eyebrow.  “You recognised my name, when nobody who wasn’t raised on the history of the Temple would have reason to now.  And you’re very obviously a user of the Force.”

“Obviously?” Han said, gut twisting.

“From my perspective,” Qui-Gon elaborated.  “From the perspective of the Inquisitors, I doubt you look like anything more than a humanoid who’s slightly more Force-sensitive than average.”

Han relaxed a little.  “And what’s your perspective, then?”

“Death.”  Qui-Gon’s mouth twisted a little, as if he were recalling a painful memory.

“You’re – death?  How?  I thought everyone was meant to _rejoin the Force in death_ , that’s what I remember being taught.”

Qui-Gon shrugged.  “I could have taken that path.  I chose otherwise.  I had hoped to have the chance to advise my Padawan – to give him the aid in his first years as a Knight that I would happily have offered had I lived – but, well.  He cannot see me.”

“Oh.”  Han processed the information.  “How many people did you try to talk to?”

“Most of the Temple, I think.  Nobody saw me wandering around, anyway.  A few heard me, but never anything more than a few words.  When the war started, I lost even that.  Nobody had the time or attention to spare for the whisperings of the Force, you know.”  His smile was not happy in the slightest.

“And then there wasn’t a Temple any more,” Han finished.

“No.”  Qui-Gon sighed.  “How did you escape?”

Han shrugged.  “The Force warned me.  I thought it was telling me to get out before I got sent out to the AgriCorps.  Guess I was wrong.”  He rubbed his neck.  “I don’t know why I’m the only one who got warned.”

“Maybe you weren’t,” Qui-Gon said.  “Maybe you’re just the only one who listened.”

“Maybe.”  As if senior Jedi wouldn’t listen when the Force was warning them.  “Why are you here, anyway?  I’m not exactly a Jedi.”

“You use the Force, you have Temple training, and you aren’t a Sith,” Qui-Gon said, smiling.  “That sounds like a Jedi to me.”

“No, I’m not!” Han protested, sitting up straight.  “I’m a _smuggler_.  Jedi fight smugglers!  And I form attachments all over the place – well, I would if I could afford to stop running – and I don’t use a lightsaber, and it’s not like I’m going around on diplomatic missions, either.”

“Not all Jedi use lightsabers,” Qui-Gon said mildly.  “And you’d hardly be the first to act in a way that upset the Council.  I knew quite a few Jedi in my day who preferred to reside off Coruscant because it allowed them a certain leeway in their actions – and I myself spent a great deal more time antagonising the Council than anybody considered appropriate.”

“I wasn’t ever even a Padawan,” Han said, glaring at him.

“No.  It’s a pity we never had a chance to meet.  I think I would have liked your younger self.”

Han stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“And, to answer your original question: I was here now, and the last time you saw me, because I have been trying to find all the living Force-sensitives left in the galaxy.  To witness them, I suppose.  I find them shortly before their deaths far more often than I like.  But – do you know, Han Solo, just how many children you have saved?”

Of course he knew.  Han knew every face, every name, every tiny settlement on the outskirts of civilisation.  “A few, I guess.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at him.  “Oh, far more than a few.  You have done more than anybody else now living to safeguard those children – indeed, there were many Jedi before the destruction of the Temple who hadn’t done half so much to protect our future.”

“What future?” Han said, slumping back against the wall.  “The Sith _won_.  There might be a few Jedi still hanging around, but the Order’s gone.  The Republic’s gone.  There isn’t a future where it all miraculously falls apart and everything goes back to normal.”

Qui-Gon regarded him for a moment.  “Perhaps I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that things will stay as they are now forever.  Darth Sidious will die eventually, and then – what?  Darth Vader is strong in the Force, but he doesn’t have the knowledge or the force of personality to hold the Empire together.  Politics isn’t in his nature.  The Empire will crumble, and _that_ will be the time to strike.”

Han stared at him.  “You and what army?”

“There is a rebellion against the Empire.  Very few people know they exist – they kept quiet while their forces were building, and the Emperor has suppressed all information about the attacks they’ve made – but they are out there, and they are preparing.  When the time comes, they will be ready.”

“Is this a recruitment effort?” Han said, squinting at Qui-Gon.  “Because that seems like a really good way to get myself killed.”

“Not at all,” Qui-Gon said, smiling at him.  “I think you’re better placed safeguarding the future of the Order.”

“I’m not doing this for you!” Han snapped.

“No.”  Qui-Gon stared at him unblinkingly.  “You’re doing it for the children you left behind when you ran.”

Han jerked himself to his feet.  “Fuck you.”

He snapped his connection to the Force as he strode out of the engine room.  He didn’t bother to look back.


	2. Chapter 2

“Kriffing fucking Sith hells –”

He’d always known it couldn’t last forever.  Sooner or later he’d end up trying to grab a kid at the same as the Imperials did, or they’d realise what he was doing and start tracking him, or he’d just be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And that’d be the end of him.

He would’ve rather his last sight be some balmy tropical planet, and not driving icy rain and mud halfway to his knees, but hey.  Wasn’t that basically typical for his life?

A blaster shot seared past his ear.  Han tried to jerk left, got his foot caught on something, and tripped, catching himself right before his face hit the mud.  Another two shots soared above his head.  Stormtroopers were shouting orders somewhere behind him, voices almost entirely drowned out by the storm.

Fuck.

If Han was going to die, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be face-down in the dirt.

He breathed, trying to ignore his racing heart, reaching for the Force.  Come on, come on –

“This way,” a familiar voice said into his left ear.  “There’s an abandoned house.”

Han gritted his teeth and swept the mud aside, staggering to his feet.  A blaster bolt scored across his shoulder; he bit back a cry and ran, pushing the mud in front of him away to give himself a clear path.  A faint blue glow beckoned him on.

The house was half-collapsed and sunk into the ground in a style Han usually saw on desert worlds.  He slid through a window and fell into – what else – mud.

“On the plus side,” Qui-Gon said, sitting cross-legged on top of the mud as if it were perfectly solid, “it broke your fall.  And they won’t think to look for you here – considering the weather, I suspect the Stormtroopers won’t even realise there was ever a building here at all.”

Han sat up, wiping mud from his face.  “Have you been following me again?”

Qui-Gon shrugged.  “You’re quite good at finding Force-sensitive children.  It seemed like it could be interesting, at the very least.”

“Of course,” Han said, sighing.  The adrenaline rush from his headlong flight was starting to fade, and his burned arm began throbbing.  “Do you know if anyone else is coming for the kid, or was I just unlucky?”

Qui-Gon tilted his head.  “I don’t feel anyone I don’t expect to be here.  Though… there’s something further out, somewhere off-planet.  I’m not sure if it’s an Inquisitor.”

“Could be passing through, could be coming down.  Maybe for me.”

“Hmm.”  Qui-Gon considered him, lips pursed.  “The Force warned you before the Temple fell.”

“And?”

“What’s it telling you now?”

Han scowled at him.  “Really?”

“What does it hurt to try?” Qui-Gon said, tone entirely reasonable in a way that made Han itch to do the opposite.  “After all, you know it’s worked once.  And if it doesn’t work this time – well, it won’t take long to tell, and you’ll be a little better connected to the Force, the better to escape without being shot.”

The problem was, it was a sensible idea.  Han frowned at the mud, trying to come up with a good reason not to do it, and came up blank.

“Any suggestions, then?” he asked, raising both eyebrows.

“Prescience was never my strong suit,” Qui-Gon said, stroking a hand over his beard, “but meditation is always a good starting point.  Touch the Force and see what happens.”

“Touch the Force and see what happens.  Right.  Really helpful there, old man.”

Han settled himself more comfortably in the mud, skin prickling with the sudden rush of memories of the Temple.  He was already touching the Force, enough to tell him there weren’t any Stormtroopers nearby and to let him see Qui-Gon; now he spread his awareness.  He didn’t want specifics, he wanted to feel the entire Force, see it spread out before him, a thousand thousand points of light against a great silvered tapestry that ran the length of time, hear the echoes of what was happening and what was going to happen –

“They’re not coming for me.  Not yet.”  He heard his own voice distantly, like an echo from a comm.  “But if I go – kriff.  I have to go, I have to try to save him –”

His eyes snapped open, meeting Qui-Gon’s.  “They’re here for the kid.”

Qui-Gon nodded.  “Let’s go.”

A decade of hard-learned instincts – running, hiding, never ever ever going near Jedi – battered at Han’s mind.  This was stupid, _so_ stupid, he was going to end up dead and he’d deserve it for going near kriffing Qui-Gon Jinn, _fuck_.

The Force had shown him exactly what would happen to the child who, once upon a time, would have been gifted to the Temple.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing away the panic.  He was Han Solo.  He was very good at not getting caught, and today wasn’t going to break that streak.  “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was intended to be a light-hearted, fairly cracky AU of Solo. That, uh. Didn't work out. So I'm absorbing it into the main Solo continuity, since I wanted something to go between Solo and its someday-sequel (basically: A New Hope, now with Force-sensitive Han) and I find the idea of Qui-Gon wandering up to see what Han's been doing and discovering his old Padawan and his grand-Padawan's kid having a lesson in the Force on Han's ship while he pretends not to know _anything at all_ about the Force to be pretty goddamn funny.
> 
> Tags, characters and relationships to be updated as I go, partially because this is still a work in progress and I don't know entirely where it's going, and partially because I'm really bad at coming up with tags for things and I'm hoping I'll have more ideas when it isn't midnight.


End file.
